


Boxing Practice

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Diary/Journal, Dinner Parties from Hell, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are not the tragedies you're looking for.</p><p>(an ongoing collection of drabbles that came from Tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stuck in an Elevator (University AU, Kaneki and Tsukiyama)

**(Prompt) _Kaneki and Tsukiyama meet for the first time while trapped in an elevator._**

 

The elevator stutters. There’s an ominous groaning noise. It stops.

There’s a long silence. Kaneki’s heart hammers in his ears. This cannot be happening. Kaneki feels his palms starting to sweat. The air feels too hot. Stale. 

The silence is broken by a high laugh. Kaneki looks at the other occupant in the elevator and immediately wishes he didn’t. He’s just as gorgeous as Kaneki had thought when he’d gotten on. It doesn’t reduce Kaneki’s nerves all. He’d gotten in two floors ago, going up to the 12th floor of the library. Special collections. Kaneki had been on his way to the 6th floor. English literature.

“Oh, no,” the man says, looking over to Kaneki and smiling in the manner that people do when they’re exasperated. “It’s happened again.”

Kaneki blinks. The man laughs, not as high, and turns to press the emergency button. Kaneki wants to slap himself. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Again?”

“Mhm,” the man says, turning to look at Kaneki; his smile stretches, like he’s amused or in pain. “These lifts–they break all the time. You would think that they would fix them or renovate them but this building was built to impress not function. A shame, really, it should be both. They shouldn’t take long. I mean, this happens enough. So long as the emergency button works, but, ah -”

The man breaks himself off, laughing again. It makes something click in Kaneki’s brain.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“No!” the man exclaims, very loud for the enclosed space; he grimaces. “Well, maybe. Yes. I… didn’t used to be. Just. Tu vois? Repeat exposure…”

He sits down on the floor of the elevator, muttering to himself as he pulls his legs up against his chest. Kaneki’s heart is in his throat. His knees feel weak. Kaneki sits down, too.

“Well,” Kaneki says, wobbly and a little hysterical, “that makes two of us.”


	2. Mistaken for Siblings (Semi-Canon Compliant, Shuu and Kanae)

**(Prompt) _anything with shuu and kanae. anything. a shopping trip. being mistaken for siblings. talking late at night. anything. please_**

 

“- little brother is cute.”

Shuu tunes back in, head snapping around to the speaker. “Sorry?”

Abe frowns, her eyebrows drawing together to further express her displeasure. “You weren’t listening to me?!”

Shuu resists the urge to scowl. “No, I was, but I must have misheard. Kanae isn’t my brother.”

The frown turns to a scowl. “No?” she asks, and Shuu has to suppress the urge to take her head off. “Then -”

“Shuu-sama,” Kanae says, obviously having cottoned on that something was off in the atmosphere, “there’s been a commotion in the front gate.”

Shuu smiles apologetically at Abe and mutters a polite pardon before turning to leave the ballroom. Kanae hurries alongside Shuu as they exit. As soon as they are out of sight of the door, Shuu slows his progress, casting a sideways glance at Kanae, who is looking studiously ahead.

“Is there actually a commotion?”

“Yes,” Kanae says, very even, “but Matsumae and Mario are handling it.”

Shuu stops, just at the bend of the hall and the stairwell that leads down to the home theatre. Kanae stops as well, hands clasped neatly at the back. 

“Did you hear what she said?”

Kanae nods. Shuu looks down the stairwell. It’s dark, and there’s faint noises from below. It’s in use, probably entertaining some amorous couple from the smell of things. Shuu looks back to Kanae, whose expression is forcibly controlled. Pinched. 

Shuu glances around them. Up the hall, down the stairwell. They’re alone. Shuu looks back to Kanae. Kanae blinks, looking at Shuu’s face.

“She’s not wrong,” Shuu says, reaching out and drawing Kanae into his arms. “We’re blood.”

Kanae laughs, a watery sound. Arms come up and fingers lacing into the fabric of Shuu’s suit jacket. Shuu smiles. They stay like that for a long time.


	3. Not Rize but Tsukiyama (Canon AU, KaneTsuki)

**(Prompt) _Kuroneki trying to ask out Tsukiyama but being too shy to go through with it._**

 

There’s a man who comes into Anteiku on occasion. He’s well-dressed and very attractive. He orders a black coffee, which makes Kaneki guess he’s a model, and generally reads a book or works on a laptop. He has a warm voice and bright smile. Sometimes he talks on his phone to someone and laughs the laugh of someone who enjoys lively conversations. 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed you staring at him,” Hide says, breaking Kaneki’s train of thought.

Kaneki flushes, hurriedly looking away. “I’m not staring!”

Hide rolls his eyes. “If you stared any harder, he’d catch fire!”

Kaneki is on fire. He chances another glance at the man, who is just in the process of taking a sip of his coffee. He has a book open today, and his eyes flicker back and forth as he reads. Kaneki looks hastily away. Hide just tuts.

“Look -”

“I’m trying not to,” Kaneki hisses, picking up his own coffee and cradling it defensively.

Hide rolls his eyes.


	4. Hinami's Diary (Post-Canon, Tsukikane & Ensemble)

**(Prompt) _Hmm... Tsukikane story time with Hinami~_**

 

_Fueguchi Hinami’s Diary, Vol. 4, Entry 20– March 4_

Yesterday got out of hand.

As I mentioned before, we’ve been planning what was supposed to be a small party for Tsukiyama-san’s thirtieth at Kaneki-oniisan’s apartment. It was supposed to just be Kaneki-oniisan, me, and Kanae-san surprising Tsukyama-san when he came home from the Diet. Unfortunately, word somehow got out (I suspect Kaneki-oniisan might have mentioned something to Touka-oneesan when he went to pick up coffee beans from :re and someone overheard), and it was anything but a small party. Everyone showed up, and everyone attempted to cram into Chateau 3.0. Even Naki-san and Mado-san came, and I didn’t even think they like Tsukiyama-san or Kaneki-oniisan. Poor Kanae-san seemed really overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed, too, for there were so many people that we couldn’t move after a while without bumping into someone.

Needless to say, when Tsukiyama-san came home, he was very surprised. There were so many people in the Chateau that no one could hide, and the cry of “Surprise!” was deafening. It really gave him a shock. He screamed and dropped his briefcase and would have probably run back out if Kaneki-oniisan hadn’t had to foresight to push his way to the front and grab onto him. Kanae-san and I were trying to get to the front at that point, especially because someone had brought wine things were getting rowdy.

“We meant this just to be a small thing,” Kaneki-oniisan was telling Tsukiyama-san, who was still breathing hard and red in the face, “but, well -”

“How many people are there?” Tsukiyama-san asked, staring at Kaneki-oniisan like he’d grown another head. “Why is–What is Suzuya-san -”

“Happy birthday,” Kaneki-oniisan said, very loudly to distract Tsukyama-san from potentially murdering his party guests, “Shuu.”

He pulled Tsukiyama-san down for a kiss. It was then, of course, things got completely out of hand.


	5. Lunch Break (Hospital AU, Kaneki and Tsukiyama)

**(Prompt) _TG needs a hospital AU because Tsukiyama and Kaneki would look great in lab coats._**

 

Kaneki finds Tsukiyama outside of the Oncology building in the courtesy garden. He’s eating his lunch while watching something on his phone, which he has balanced on his right shoe.

“I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Tsukiyama looks up in surprise, chopsticks and a mouthful of ume rice. He makes a questioning noise. Close up, Kaneki can see that he’s watching a cooking tutorial on how to make mendiant. Tsukiyama returns his chopsticks to his bento. He chews and swallows, tapping his phone to pause the video.

“Stand what?” Tsukiyama asks at the same time as he reaches for and holds up the second bento tier. “Do you want some, Kaneki-kun?”

It’s half salad with little cherry tomatoes, takuan, and chicken karaage. Kaneki nods, reaching out to extract one of the karaage. He sits down next to Tsukiyama on the bench. He pops the karaage into his mouth as Tsukiyama sets the box between them, returning to his rice. The karaage is cold but still crunchy. There’s a little peppery spice.

“Delicious,” Kaneki says after swallowing. “And you know what I’m talking about.”

Tsukiyama makes an affirmative noise because he’s just taken another mouthful of rice. Kaneki looks at him, smiling apologetically, as Tsukiyama chews hastily and swallows. Kaneki really has an awful habit of trying to talk to Tsukiyama when he has his mouth full. 

“Beautification is necessary to make sure we satisfy the desires of our donors so they’ll continue donating,” Tsukiyama says before motioning with his chopsticks to the bento tier between them. “I mean, not like your MRI machines buy themselves. Help yourself to more.”

Kaneki murmurs his thanks, selecting another piece of karaage and popping it into his mouth. The first part is exactly the same thing he said at the morning meeting before an emergency in Oncology rescued him from the meeting. Kaneki knows, logically, that Tsukiyama doesn’t actually believe in putting donor desires in front of human need. Tsukiyama might come from a family whose wealth is so great it actually frightens Kaneki, but he’s that particular balance between humane and practical. Nishiki in Pharmacy and Touka in Pediatrics hate him for it, but Kaneki gets it, even though he doesn’t like it. 

“What was the emergency this morning?”

Tsukiyama swallows more rice, his gaze sliding sideways to Kaneki. “There wasn’t one. I told Kanae to rescue me after twenty minutes.”

Kaneki, who had just put another piece of karaage into his mouth, barely manages to spit it back out in a fit of laughter.


	6. Wake Up (End of :re Speculation, Shuu and Kanae)

**(Prompt)** Using a [quote meme](http://west-francia.tumblr.com/post/129945642822/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) for some dialogue

 

“I think we need to talk.”

There is no good that can come of that statement. Shuu rests his hand atop of Kanae’s head. Unconscious body healing sluggishly from the hasty operation to carve Eto’s rotting kagune out of Kanae’s back. They’re in a bad situation turned worse by the CCG, Aogiri Tree, and V duking it out. Outside, there’s the sounds of screaming. A rumbling. Shuu shuts his eyes. It’s not far off.

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

There’s the rumbling again. Shuu looks up. Through the grating that provides light down from the surface and into the 24th. They’ve been down here for who know how long. Shuu can tell the number of days and night due to the grate. He likes to pretend he doesn’t know. Shuu needs to stop lying to himself, but there’s a part of him that’s always lived in a fantasy world.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” 

Shuu looks back down. Kanae hasn’t stirred. Chest rising and falling. Kanae is healing sluggishly but healing. They need time. Shuu breathes out.

“I need you to wake up and tell me that.”

In a fantasy world, they would have all the time they needed to slay the dragons. In this world, they are the dragons. But there are no more knights, and no one is a hero. The world is wrong.

Shuu will wait until Kanae is healed enough to be moved. And then he’ll run, deep into the 24th, until they can reach the water. There’s a cargo ship docked and waiting. They will sail for Okinawa.

Maybe it makes Shuu a coward. But Kanae is the last of his family left, and Shuu isn’t going to risk anything more.


	7. Falling: A-Side (Canon-Compliant, TsukiKane)

**(Prompt)** Using a [quote meme](http://west-francia.tumblr.com/post/129945642822/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) for some dialogue

 

It’s a lot like falling.

Most ghouls, especially those with koukaku kagune, spend a lot of their early years falling. Koukaku are heavy and very rarely naturally well-balanced. It’s like having a violent, misshapen turtleshell that pops out at very unpredictable and alarming intervals. Tsukiyama remembers many of his early lessons were spent learning how to balance himself and, when he inevitably began to tire, how to fall over without hurting himself.

That’s what being around Kaneki is like. It’s like learning to fall all over again, except Tsukiyama doesn’t know where the floor is or if there even is a floor. One day Kaneki is soft and thoughtful, eager to chat and almost as innocent as he was when his hair was black. The next day, it’s the brooding, glaring Kaneki who sneers and hisses and cracks his knuckles. Tsukiyama feels like a juggler playing with fire. It’s exhilarating. It’s frustrating. It’s a horror movie on loop.

“I think,” Tsukiyama wants to say sometimes, when he’s so afraid he feels alive, “I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”


	8. Falling: B-Side (Canon-Compliant, KaneTsuki)

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

It makes Tsukiyama laugh, even though he stops halfway through the sound to cough up blood.

“It could be worse,” Tsukiyama says, after twisting his head and spitting the excess blood to the side. “But we won’t be doing anything strenuous for the rest of the night.”

Kaneki’s mouth hangs open. Tsukiyama doesn’t notice because he’s rolling onto his left side. The hole that Kaneki put through his stomach and right pelvis is starting to close up. Tsukiyama groans. It doesn’t help.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Kaneki thinks, “and I’m terrified.


	9. Stuck in an Elevator: Revised (University AU, Kaneki and Tsukiyama)

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

It’s after thirty minutes in the elevator, during which the intercom came on once to inform them that there was help on the way, Kaneki finally works up the courage to try to engage the equally distressed but far more attractive man next to him in conversation.

“What’s your name? Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

It’s both the wrong and right thing to say. It draws a high, disbelieving laugh from his unwilling companion, who has chosen to huddle up with his knees against his chest and back against the wall opposite from where Kaneki has lain down on his side and curled up into a ball. 

“Oh,” the man says, face clearly attempting to smile but only succeeding in looking vaguely manic, “yes. It does seem so, doesn’t it? Do you want to talk? Get to know each other? I’m terribly sorry. This isn’t how I normally am. I’m Tsukiyama Shuu. Final year. Social welfare.”

Babbling seems to be the order of the day. Kaneki tries to smile from his foetal position, but it’s probably quite a poor imitation. 

“I’m Kaneki Ken. I study Japanese literature. Why were you going up to Special Collections?”

Tsukiyama sucks in a deep breath. Blows it out. Kaneki knows he should try that, too, but the thought of decreasing their air supply, even though it’s not an actual danger and just Kaneki’s mind making it up, lingers.

“Final year project,” Tsukiyama says, and he sounds a little calmer. “I’m examining the development of sustainable food supply chains. Do you want to hear about it?”

They will be trapped here a while yet. It can’t hurt. Kaneki tries to smile.

“Sure.”


	10. Jealous (Canon-Compliant, TsukiKane and Banjou)

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Tsukiyama looks around to Banjou so fast that his neck pops. It makes Tsukiyama wince. He reaches up to rub the back, grimacing at Banjou.

“Jealous?” he asks, clearly annoyed. “Of what?”

Banjou glances over to where Kaneki is currently deep in discussion with their newest information source, a very attractive ghoul with long, honey hair and full, pink lips. Tsukiyama has been glaring fit to set her on fire ever since Kaneki and her moved across the room to discuss something in private. It’s not really private because they’re all ghouls and they have ears, but it’s the principle of the thing. Besides, Banjou trusts Kaneki to tell them what they need to know.

When Banjou turns his attention back to Tsukiyama, he’s glaring down at his knees. Still rubbing the back of his neck. Banjou nearly opens his mouth to push the point, but there’s a tenseness to Tsukiyama that stops him. Jealous, most certainly. But it’s also something genuine. Banjou can count the number of times Tsukiyama has been genuine on one hand.

Banjou looks away. Back across the room to Kaneki. The informant. It’s all so uncomfortable.

“Nevermind.”


	11. Secret (Utake, Canon Divergence)

“Tell me a secret.”

Uta’s voice in the dark. Take, half-awake and lying sprawled in bed, wonders when he got used to it. When he stopped jolting awake, hearing that soft, polite, terrifying voice by his ear. Lying in bed beside him. He no longer even thinks of Uta as No Face. 

“Hey,” Uta whispers, fingertips pressing against the meat of Take’s bicep. “No one needs to know.”

No one needs to know anything. Take thinks about saying that. Thinks about reaching over and covering Uta’s mouth. His wicked mouth with that wicked tongue that says, eats, and does wicked things. Take closes his eyes. Shifts his left leg to catch his ankle around Uta’s right.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Take says. “I have work tomorrow.”

 

“Hey,” Ui says, after they’re on their third beers, “are you seeing someone?”

Take chokes. It’s inelegant. Beer comes out his nose. It burns and fizzes at the same time, a most unpleasant sensation. Take gropes around for a napkin, shoving it over his nose and mouth.

“What -” he tries to ask between coughs, “what -”

“Well,” Ui says, reasonable although squinting a bit much, “you’re so tired these days. You’re not at the gym, and you go home on time more often. So. Are you seeing someone?”

Take mops at his face. Coughs. Sniffs. Three beers is not enough to be sure that Ui will forget this conversation in the morning.

“No,” Take says, and if he sounds irritated and hoarse, then all the better. “Work-life balance is bad enough.”

“Hm,” Ui sighs, morose, “isn’t that the truth…”

It is the truth. Just not the truth Ui was looking for. Take grimaces. Sips his drink.

He wonders, traitorously, if Uta is still at the shop.


	12. Wasted Art (Canon-Compliant, Uta and Yomo)

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Uta opens his eyes. Looks up. Smiles.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Yomo looks down. Frowns. Beyond that, though, he doesn’t react. Uta stares up. Unblinking.

“I’m pregnant.”

Yomo frowns deeper. Looks south of the border. Looks back up at Uta’s face.

“Unless I missed something,” Yomo says, deadpan, “I don’t think your body can do that.”

Uta rolls his eyes. Sits up. He reaches up and pushes his hair out of his face. 

“Art is wasted on you,” Uta informs Yomo, very matter of fact.

Yomo rolls his eyes.


	13. First Meeting (Take and Uta, Canon Divergence)

**(prompt)** _Maybe some first times? First time they talked, first time they confided in the other, first kiss..._

 

Take is thirteen the first time he meets Uta.

Uta isn’t Uta to Take then, of course. Uta isn’t even No Face to Take because No Face is only a faint question mark on the surface of the world. They’re young, although Take doesn’t think of himself as young when he is in the burgeoning throes of adolescence. 

So, the first time they meet, it is painfully normal. It is at a park. Take is skipping out on school. Not for any particular reason except he’s bored and his limbs ache, bones trying to grow faster than his skin can stretch. He doesn’t think of it like that then. He thinks he’s bored of school. He’s bored of lectures from boring teachers and even more dotty CCG agents. They never say anything interesting, and Take wonders sometimes how they are so comfortable wearing their hatred for ghouls on their sleeves. He’s not bothered by this, not then, not at all like he’ll come to be by the time he’s eighteen.

Someone runs by. Take looks up from the park bench to see another person, possibly near to Take’s age, dive under the bushes. Take blinks. Someone else, he thinks, rather dimly, must be cutting class.

A long moment passes before the body under the bushes shifts and the most bizarre head Take has ever seen pokes out. Bleached hair held back with a headband. Ears dotted with piercings. Red eyes surrounded by black dart around before falling on Take. It’s the eyes that make Take’s blood freeze. The mouth opens in a perfect o.

They stare at each other for a very long moment. Those eyes, Take has been taught to recognise that. That’s -

“Where the hell is that rat?”

Take’s head snaps to the side. There’s someone coming. A clearly angry, very masculine voice that continues to curse. Take looks back to the other. Their eyes meet. The mouth moves, forming what will become fateful words:

_Don’t tell._

Take nods, just as the other disappears under the bush. Out of sight. A giant of a man storms around the corner, glaring and looking back and forth. Take, because he is thirteen and only just starting to grow, is still very much a child. He quails. 

“You!” the man snaps at Take, stalking forward and hovering in the middle of the path. “You see a stupid punk come through here?”

Take shakes it head. There was no stupid punk. There is a ghoul. It is not a lie.

“Fuck,” the man hisses, and he looks around but not down. “Fucking _thief_ -”

He storms away, up the road. Take stares after his back, even long after the man can no longer be heard. It takes a long time for Take’s heart to calm. He breathes out. Deflates.

A rustling. Take’s heart starts hammering again. Oh, yes. The ghoul. There is a ghoul emerging out from under the bush. Crouching and looking back and forth to check the coast is clear. Looking at Take. Take, who has aided and sheltered a ghoul.

It doesn’t matter if the ghoul eats him. 

The ghoul looks at him. Those strange, terrifying eyes are wide. The ghoul is very pale. The body is wiry, all tense lean muscle and gangly limbs. They stare at each other for a very long time.

“Thank you,” the ghoul says, and it’s a voice like Take’s classmates and really very polite. 

Take nods. The ghoul stands up. It looks back and forth before looking back to Take. The ghoul seems to consider something before smiling.

“Thank you,” the ghoul says again before turning and running in the direction the man had come from.

Take swallows. Looks down at his hands. They rest in his lap over his thighs. They’re shaking. Take shuts his eyes. He opens something in himself that day that will change him forever.

_Don’t tell._

Take won’t.


	14. Dog (Utake, Canon Divergence)

**(prompt)** _Could you write something with hirako and his dog? Maybe the doggy doesn't like Uta_

 

“What’s that?” 

Take cracks open an eye. Uta looms over him, but that is not surprising. 

“What’s what?”

Uta shifts, sprawling over Take to pick at something on the side of the hotel bed. Lifts it up. Take is tired and post-coital. He doesn’t bother trying to squint in the dim light.

“I can’t see, Uta,” Take mumbles.

“It’s a dog hair,” Uta says, almost puzzled in tone. “I’ve seen these on you all the time lately, and now they’re falling off of you even when you’re naked. Take,” and he gives Take such a serious look, “are you a werewolf?”

Take laughs. It hurts a little with Uta on his chest. 

“What?” he grunts. “No. I adopted a dog. About three months back.”

“A dog,” Uta says, flicking what must be one of Maru’s hairs aside and crawling to lie properly on top of Take and stare into his face. “Are you lonely, Take?”

Take groans and bops Uta on the side of the head. It doesn’t even make Uta blink, but it wasn’t hard in the first place. Take has no energy but to be as effective as a dead fish.

“That’s not the only reason people get a dog,” Take says, shutting his eyes and letting his arm fall back onto the sheets. “I like dogs.”

“Hm,” Uta says, but he doesn’t comment any further; Take knows better than to think Uta is satisfied with that answer. “You up for another round?”

Of course.


	15. Masquerade (Utake, Canon Divergence)

**(prompt)** _Uta and Hirako's Halloween: bad horror movies, eyeballs, cuddling under warm blankets. Hirako falls asleep with his head on Uta's shoulder_

 

The CCG is having a Halloween masquerade party.

“It’s sort of ironic, isn’t it?” Take mutters as Uta raises his eyebrows over his coffee mug. “Us. Ghoul investigators. Wearing masks.”

Uta clears his throat. He sets his cup down, picking up the paper napkin and patting his lips dry. They’re sitting in a dingy coffee shop in the 15th Ward. It had good ratings online, and both Uta and Take had agreed they should probably mix up where they met up occasionally. What it lacks in atmosphere, though, it completely makes up in the quality of its coffee.

“It is,” Uta says, and he grins, eyes sparkling with unvoiced laughter, “Are you going to go?”

Take sighs through his nose. “Of course,” he mumbles, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “It’s going to be like a bad horror movie.”

Uta does laugh at this. Close-lipped and with a hand politely over his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact with Take, though. His ridiculous sunglasses are low enough down his nose he shouldn’t even bother wearing them.

After a moment, Uta quiets. Take watches him, the way his eye shift just slightly. Uta lowers his hand. He smiles, a little show of teeth.

“Well,” Uta murmurs, and the light in his eyes is darker, mischievous, “I am a mask-maker.”

 

“Woah! You look exactly like your dog!” Kuramoto exclaims as Take steps out of the bathroom. “What a cool mask!”

Take rolls his eyes. Kuramoto can’t see it but guesses Take’s reaction; it makes him laugh. 

“Did that artist you’re dating make it?” Kuramoto asks, lowering his voice as they move towards the elevator to go down to the party.

Take clears his throat. He knows that his neck has turned a spectacular pink. If it wasn’t for the mask in the shape of Maru, he would be redder than a tomato. It makes Kuramoto laugh again. It’s a perfected subterfuge as much as it is embarrassment. Only Ui and Kuramoto know he’s even dating. Take intends to keep it that way for as long as possible.

(Nothing lasts forever. Even cuddled up with Uta on the rare evenings they have together, Take knows that.)

“Yeah,” Take mutters, reaching up and adjusting the buckle over the top of his head. “He’ll be really happy to hear you like it.”

Kuramoto grins before reaching up to pull down his fox mask as the elevator comes to a stop. It reminds Take of something. Maybe a manga. Kuramoto flashes a thumbs up.

“Let’s go!”


	16. Reconciliation Garden (Post-Canon, Shuu and Kanae)

**(prompt)** _kanae, as they are right now (sown shut eyes/mouth etc), die and haunt shuu. lets go home with kanae, with kanae, master shuu. 8^)_

 

There is a garden that grows in the 21st Ward.

It’s called the Reconciliation Garden. It grows on the grounds of what was once a great estate, the ruins of the mansion that burned to the ground. There’s areas off the main pathway where foundation fragments of the great house may be seen. They’re coated with scorch marks.

Shuu never intended to come back to this place.

Yet, like clockwork, he comes every Sunday when he’s back in Tokyo. It’s a popular date destination. Humans and ghouls, especially those who are dating between the two, enjoy coming here, where their relationships may be worn in public. The rose garden with its brand new greenhouse is particularly popular. Shuu walks off the main pathways, watching couples smiling sweetly as they pose next to the entrance. Often, he offers to take the picture for them.

“Thank you,” they say.

“Do you work here?” they sometimes ask.

Shuu smiles. He knows it’s not a happy smile. There’s something wrong with his eyes.

“No,” he says. “I’m just passing through.”

It’s called the Reconciliation Garden. It’s all that’s left of where Shuu grew up.

 

Tokyo is very different these days.

This statement does not adequately describe everything that Shuu wants to say. There isn’t, really, a way to describe the changes brought on by the collapse of the Commission of Counter Ghoul and all that was associated with it. The gassing of the 24th Ward with RC cell repressor chemicals. The street fights and the looting. The firebombing of the 4th Ward. The bodies. The clean up. The fallout. Foreign news outlets call it variations of the Japanese CCG-Ghoul Civil War. Emphasis on _Japanese_ , and the unsaid whisper of _it won’t happen here_.

Here in Tokyo, the entire succession of incidents is referred to the collapse of the 24th Ward. Or, simply, the Collapse. It’s how most residents remember the collected incidents. How 24th, after being gassed, contracted and expanded. It caused the ground to buckle, an earthquake that went on for months. Entire parts of the city disappeared down sinkholes. Buildings toppled and cracked in half.

The Tower, struck by lightning, tumbling down.

Privately, in his head, that is what Shuu calls it.

 

Tsukiyama Shuu is thirty-five years old. He is the CEO of Tsukiyama Global Import and Export, which is based in Osaka with offices throughout Japan, China, Germany, Canada, and the United States. Shuu alternates between the Osaka main branch and the Tokyo branch every other month with occasional periods abroad. For the past six years, he’s appeared on world’s wealthiest lists as well as eligible bachelor rankings. Shuu smiles when people flock to him at parties. It keeps people at a distance. He’s seen the pictures. It’s how he knows there’s something wrong with his smile.

“Are you seeing anyone?” a reporter asked at the last press conference Shuu was dragged out for after a shareholder meeting. "Woman? Man? Ghoul? Human?“

The reporter was very young. Very eager. Must not have grown up in or around Tokyo. The atmosphere in the room churned awkwardly. Shuu smiled. Looked down at his hands.

_grasping clawing up a crumbling wall_

“No,” Shuu said, even as security shifted at the back of the room. “Next question.”

There are holes in the pavement. There are deep fissures where houses, schools, and parks used to be. Civilian cars and motorbikes are limited. Gas costs are prohibitive, so nearly everyone walks or bicycles. The luxury apartment building he lives in is new and pristine, but it’s one of the few and reminds Shuu constantly of how lucky he is to be in money. On street level, sewage bubbles up through the grates and pipes, the collapsed 24th still festering. The rotten RC cell walls attempt to regenerate despite the permanent damage. The ground seethes, putrid scents drifting up on warm days to fill the entire city. It makes it impossible to forget what has happened.

“I would move,” Shuu often hears people murmuring as he walks to the Reconciliation Garden or to the market for coffee, “but no one wants to take more Tokyo survivors.”

Survivors. It’s a strange word. Shuu doesn’t like to think of it that way, but he likes the other terms people come up with even less. He doesn’t say any of this aloud, of course. It’s not something that is said. Shuu is no longer twenty-one, sure of himself and mouthy. There’s a decade between himself and the Gourmet. Between himself and the CCG. Between -

_let’s go back home go home back home_

Shuu stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He presses his gloved hands to his forehead. To the fabric of his scarf. Everyone who lives in Tokyo keeps as covered as possible when out these days. It’s to protect the skin from the pollution. Humans risk cancer. Ghouls risk recurrent rashes and wounds prone to infection. The CCG found this out by experimenting on -

Shuu shakes his head. No. No. He cannot think about that. It is Sunday. His off-day. Shuu cannot think about this.

He lowers his hands. Looks up. He walks, as clockwork, to the Reconciliation Garden.

 

The roses are in bloom.

Shuu stops before them. He keeps his hands clasped behind his back. He gazes at the roses, a picture of contemplation. Around him, people wander by, soft, intimate murmurs. It is a strange mockery of the whispering, theatrical world Shuu grew up in. That he stands in the ruins of.

_let’s go back home_

This is not his home. His home is long gone. Burned down beneath his own hands, in a desperate bid to save something of himself. The roses survived, their roots deep. And that’s the problem.

_Shuu-sama_

The problem is that Shuu doesn’t see a way to prevent the world he was born into and that burned to the ground from coming back to life. It isn’t dead. It is like the rotted 24th, still seething under the surface of everyday life. Shuu has dined with those who bemoan the end to the old days. Shuu starts awake at night, screaming for Matsumae before he remembers she isn’t here. And then there is -

_let’s go back home_

There is something wrong with Shuu’s smile. With his eyes. A haunting. A spectre. A phantom. A ghost. Shuu’s body is no longer his own.

_with Kanae…_

Shuu turns, moving up the path. Couples linger in the roses. They take pictures.

This is where Shuu grew up.


	17. Lunch Break, Take 2 (Hospital AU, Kaneki and Tsukiyama)

**(prompt)** _hello, just in case the muses hit your eye, that hospital AU with shuuneki and the gang deserves another try :} don't you think?_

 

**Internal Messaging System, N. Sec. #A04**

_ID.2937_ : what up with Tsukiyama in Onco and Kaneki in Neuro  
 _ID.3433_ : Kaneki-sensei is the example of Marie Antoinette syndrome and Tsukiyama’s the doc who constantly talks about food, right?  
 _ID.2937_ : y what up with them they dating  
 _ID.3433_ : No? I think they’re friends?   
_ID.2937_ : u blind?? Tsukiyama-sensei def brings food 4 Kaneki-sensei  & that Onco nurse Kanae has been trying to set Kaneki on fire w/eyes 4 weeks  
 _ID.3433_ : Why don’t you ask them?  
 _ID.1298_ : As riveting as this conversation is, Nagachika-san, Banjou-san, this isn’t what the internal messaging system is for.  
 _ID.3433_ : Sorry, Yoshimura-sensei.

 

“I think people are gossiping about us.”

Tsukiyama doesn’t respond. Kaneki looks up from his laptop screen. Tsukiyama is busy reading one of the reports he brought and has stacked on his lap. They’re in Kaneki’s office having lunch. Between them, Tsukiyama’s bento is open. There’s three types of onigiri today: mixed sesame seed, umeboshi, and shrimp furikake. Tsukiyama has shaped them into balls for upcoming moon festival.

“Probably,” Tsukiyama says, closing the file and reaching for one of the umeboshi onigiri. “Does it bother you?”

Kaneki shakes his head. There’s a lot of things that bother Kaneki, but people assuming Tsukiyama and him have a relationship isn’t one of them. 

“What about you?”

Tsukiyama has just bitten the onigiri in half. He snorts as Kaneki smiles apologetically. Kaneki really has to stop trying to make Tsukiyama talk with his mouth full.

“Why should it?” Tsukiyama says after he swallows; he waves his free hand in vague dramatism. “I mean, better gossip about that than, well, my family or your hair.”

Kaneki grimaces. The fact he’s a living example of Marie Antoinette syndrome has become the bane of his existence. He hasn’t yet been forced to share all the details of what happened when he was abducted just over a year ago with anyone but the police and court, although Touka and Hide have been prodding him to make further use of Psychology and Counseling than he already has had to get back to work. Part of the reason Kaneki has been spending so much time with Tsukiyama is that Tsukiyama treats him like he’s still a person. 

When they’d first met, Kaneki had found Tsukiyama handsome and interesting, but Tsukiyama has a reputation due to his family. Some of the reputation is deserved: Tsukiyama is wealthy and with that comes a level of entitlement. Tsukiyama, though, is qualified to do his job, and he does it well. He is eccentric and sometimes painfully obtuse, but there’s an odd, under-developed kindness to him. Kaneki finds he prefers eccentric and oddly kind than being handled with kid gloves.

“Well, I’m glad,” Kaneki says as Tsukiyama puts the rest of the onigiri in his mouth, “because I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with you.”

Tsukiyama chokes so hard rice comes out of his nose.


	18. Instant Coffee (Utake & Yomo, Canon Divergence)

**(prompt)** _On your last utake drabble you wrote that Ui and Kuramoto know Take is dating, but who knows on Uta's side? Is Yomo? Does he know is a Dove, the same one they fought years ago, or that fight didn't happen in this au/verse? Pls I'm dying to know_

 

The first time Yomo became aware that Uta saw someone regularly was back when they were young but not so young they were constantly fighting. Yomo was angry and grieving and hormone-ridden. Uta was, well, Uta. Yomo assumed that he was as hormone-ridden as the rest of them, these upstart teenagers bonded together not because of personality or motivation but because they were ghouls. Alliances were necessary to survive through the winter. 

It was winter. Uta would disappear occasionally, usually on Sunday nights. He would come back on Monday, smelling of a human but not of blood. Itori would tease him, and Uta would laugh, but they never delved deeper. No name or anything personal was ever shared. Uta never brought home tokens or came back in different clothes. To everyone else, this was just Uta being Uta. All anyone know was that Uta saw someone sometimes. They all knew it was a human. 

It sat sour in Yomo’s gut. It made him think of his sister. Of his parents. It made him nervous when Sunday evenings rolled around and Uta wasn’t in the hideout. Uta always came back, same as the day before. He wasn’t sentimental about it. The human’s scent washed away by the end of Monday. There was no reason to bring it up. It didn’t interfere with them as Clowns. As ghouls.

It wasn’t until they were under fire, the CCG bearing down in full force, that it came to the floor. The familiar scent of Uta’s human wafted through the battlefield. Yomo wanted to look, but Uta wasn’t. Uta was fighting as a Clown. His human being a Dove didn’t matter. Uta knew what he was. A ghoul. And then Arima Kishou was on the field, and Uta and his human didn’t matter. 

Nothing did.

In the year that followed wherein Yomo adjusted to life at Yoshimura’s side, he didn’t think about Uta and his human at all.

 

The next time Yomo thinks of Uta and his human is when he goes for the third time to the still newly opened HySy ArtMask Studio. It’s almost a year to the date since the Clowns and CCG fought. Yomo lets himself into the shop through the front door. The familiar scent of Uta’s human assaults his senses. Yomo’s hair stands up on the back of his neck.

“Uta!”

There’s a clattering. The scrape of a chair. A sharp yelp. Yomo is through the door to the backroom without thinking.

“Ah -!”

There’s clothes scattered all over the floor. Two pairs of eyes stare at Yomo in the doorway. There are two very naked bodies tangled together. Tattooed and scarred skin. An overturned desk chair. Yomo’s mouth is open and dry.

“Could you,” Uta says, looking up at Yomo with a very reasonable, very calm smile, “give me two minutes?”

Yomo does a good impression of a goldfish. He steps back. Shuts the office door.

 

Half an hour later, the human is gone. 

Yomo sits in the little kitchenette in the living space above the shop. Uta makes coffee. It’s instant and bitter. The water tastes like it’s been boiled a few times before. 

“Renji-kun.”

Yomo looks up. Uta is only wearing pants. He looks at Yomo across the small table, elbows resting on his knees. 

“You’ll forget his face,” Uta says. 

He smiles, a meaningless thing. Uta is not sentimental. He is utterly Yomo’s opposite in this way. He always has been. To hold a Dove so close: Yomo can’t imagine anything more obscene.

Slowly, Yomo sets his coffee down on the table. Now that he’s grown used to Yoshimura’s coffee, it’s far too bitter.

“He has,” Yomo murmurs, “a very forgettable face.”


	19. Birds and Bees (Hinami & Tsukiyama, Canon-Compliant)

**(prompt)** _Hinami asks Flower Man to tell her about the birds and the bees (or as Tsukiyama puts it "les oiseaux et les abeilles") after everyone else in the group refuses to give her a straight answer_

 

Through trial and error and observation, Hinami has identified that there are exactly three things not directly related to Kaneki that Tsukiyama is allowed to do in the apartment.

He’s allowed to care for the flowers he regularly brings. There are four vases of varying sizes in the house. Unless business is pressing, Tsukiyama is allowed to take his time arranging the flowers in the vase of choice. He does this at the kitchen sink, cutting stems to varying length, plucking wilted or bruised petals, and arranging the flowers inside the chosen vase. It’s an art, one that Tsukiyama clearly enjoys. She enjoys watching him, reminded of how her father brought her mother flowers. A full bouquet like Tsukiyama regularly brings was rare, but even if it was a single rose, it made her mother smile. They were so very much in love, even though their lives were hard and money was often tight.

Money, in this house, is not tight. Tsukiyama funds them, and anything financial has become entirely Tsukiyama’s domain. Tsukiyama buys things, which are delivered on a regular basis to the house. Most of the time, it’s routine items like cleaning supplies for the basement, workout clothing, and replacement socks. Occasionally, however, Tsukiyama will wander around the house with his phone and then sit in the living room for a while placing online orders. Hinami knows if she needs anything, then she simply has to catch him at one of these times. Tsukiyama smiles, fiddles about with his phone, and that’s that. He takes care of it.

That leads to the third thing. It’s a fairly recent development. Ever since Tsukiyama and Kaneki began training together, Tsukiyama is allowed to wash up and rest for an undefined amount of time before leaving. It means that he keeps some clothing in the house these days as well as toiletries and different coffee beans. Sometimes he simply washes, dresses, and makes a pot of his coffee before heading off. Other times, like this time, he lingers. Sipping his coffee on the living room couch, legs tucked up right against his chest and left folded under him. He’s got a book on his lap. He looks up as Hinami approaches, blinking at her before smiling. It doesn’t completely reach his eyes.

“Little lady,” he says, pleasant but a little distant. “Do you need something?”

Hinami breathes in. Tsukiyama blinks again. She watches the slight movement of his gaze. Downwards right. Back up. Hinami looks down. His trousers are a pale green. When she looks back up, Tsukiyama hasn’t looked away.

It’s reassuring. Hinami smiles, making sure to look as shy as possible.

“I’ve had a question, but no one will answer it.”

Tsukiyama makes a curious noise. He shifts, leaning forward to set his coffee mug down. He closes his book after briefly checking the page number. 

“Well, that’s not fair,” he says, smiling again; it’s a bit closer to an honest expression. “May I be of assistance?”

Hinami feels her smile widen. Even out. She moves to sit next to Tsukiyama on the couch. He scoots slightly to give her a full cushion, adjusting to sit cross-legged. His book hangs from his hands between his knees.

“So?” he prompts. “Tell me.”

Despite herself, Hinami feels flutter of embarrassed anxiety. She looks down at her lap. At her hands that have automatically clasped themselves there.

“I was reading a book with Kaneki-oniisan,” she says, staring at her right thumbnail. “One of the characters joked about birds and bees. I didn’t get it, so I asked him, but he told me it wasn’t important. I asked Banjou-san and Jiro-san, and they said the same thing. When I asked Ichimi-san, he made me as Sante-san, who said I’m not old enough. But the character who made the joke was thirteen. I’m fourteen, so -”

She stops herself. Bites the inside of her lip. She didn’t mean to say that much. She only wanted to ask what the joke meant, not complain to Tsukiyama about her immature problems. Maybe this -

“In French,” Tsukiyama says, “it’s called _les choux et les roses_.”

Hinami looks up. Tsukiyama is looking at her. He’s not smiling, but somehow that makes him far more honest than he ever is otherwise. 

“Cabbages and roses,” he says, unusually translating for himself. “Boys and girls. It’s a metaphor about explaining where babies come from.”

Oh. _Oh._ No wonder everyone had looked so awkward and alarmed. Hinami knows her face is as red as a tomato. Tsukiyama doesn’t laugh at her, though. He tilts his head slightly. His hair is damp from the shower.

“You do know -”

Hinami nods hurriedly. It brings an amused smile to Tsukiyama’s face. It reaches his eyes and lifts his cheeks. He chuckles a little, shaking his head as he leans forward to retrieve his coffee mug again. He settles back into the couch, sipping it. His left hand still holds his book, dangling between his legs. His gaze is on the television. It isn’t on.

“Why,” Hinami says, partly because she’s curious and partly because there’s an odd feeling here, “do these metaphors exist?”

It makes him look at her again. He blinks a couple of times before shrugging. For a moment, he seems to forget himself because when he smiles, he softens. Like he does when arranging flowers. Like he does when buying things for the house. LIke he sometimes does when he follows Kaneki down to the basement. 

“I suppose,” he says, “It’s a prettier way to talk about difficult things.”


End file.
